


Maybe it's the Alcohol Talking

by WizardLizard0



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Attempt at Humor, But there are dicks, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Fluff and Humor, Gay Bar, Human AU, Human Karkat Vantas, Humanstuck, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, Intoxication, Jeez, M/M, Mild Smut, NSFW, No Sex, POV Dave, POV Dave Strider, Penises, Sloppy Makeouts, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, This is Bad, Vomiting, adult shenanigans, but like it is also 1:46 in the morning, davekat - Freeform, honestly, i guess, i only proofread it once and like barely edited anything, idk im gonna stop with the tags before i get too into it, idk this was so rushed, is there even a plot to this, just feel like I need to tag that, karkat is kind of ooc, not as a kink way though gross, so like this, this is awful, this is probably really bad, uhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:08:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28126653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WizardLizard0/pseuds/WizardLizard0
Summary: Your name is Dave Strider, and you are currently head first in a toilet. You’re coughing and hacking as you poorly try to hide the pathetic shame you feel escaping from your mind, almost like an overly confident convict that is only going to get caught in the next twenty minutes by the police after a quick bathroom break at the local gas station. A sympathetic hand is pressed gently to your back, rubbing in that motion that is intended to make you feel better, but only succeeds in reminding you of how humiliated you feel right now.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas
Comments: 5
Kudos: 30





	Maybe it's the Alcohol Talking

**Author's Note:**

> okay so like... how do I say lightly that I literally hate this. I literally hate this so much oh my GOD. I am so unsure of whether this is like any good or not I wrote this in an hour somehow and I will say that is the fastest I have ever written any fanfic in my life. I'm too tired and ashamed of myself to actually genuinely edit this so I looked it over and said good enough so if you hate it I understand <3 okay but seriously though I read some other fic where dave and karkat hooked up in a gay bar and i can't write sex to save my life so I was like "well what if I wrote something like that but dave is a virgin and doesn't understand sex like at all and then... yknow. i avoid having to write actual sex and i can make it haha funny" and so . yeah. this came from that i guess. idk please god save me i'm so tired i

Your name is Dave Strider, and you are currently head first in a toilet. You’re coughing and hacking as you poorly try to hide the pathetic shame you feel escaping from your mind, almost like an overly confident convict that is only going to get caught in the next twenty minutes by the police after a quick bathroom break at the local gas station. A sympathetic hand is pressed gently to your back, rubbing in that motion that is intended to make you feel better, but only succeeds in reminding you of how humiliated you feel right now. 

“Do you… wanna talk about it? Like, are you okay?” 

The voice asking is gentle, too gentle in fact. Your foggy and once heavily-intoxicated mind has to take a second in order to think over it. Do you want to recount what just happened? Are you, in fact, okay?

You lift your head up, and as gross as it is, rest your cheek on the toilet seat.

“Yes? Maybe? I- fuck I don’t actually know. That’s like asking a pre-pubescent teenager if they were okay after they accidentally got a hard on in front of their eighth grade biology teacher, and then pissed all over themselves out of fear. Absolutely ludicrous.”

“I mean-”

“Don’t.”

You sigh, “just give me a second to process. My heads running all sorts of fuckin’ laps around what the fuck just even happened.”

**3 hours earlier**

To say you’re nervous would be a tad bit of an understatement. It isn’t as if this was your first time being in a place like this. Hell, you’ve taken the opportunity to immerse yourself in the cheap tequila scented glamour of gay bars before. At this point, you wouldn’t even deny yourself the honour of being an expert. There was something about the scene that drove you to it. The people, the music, the colours, the cheap tequila. All of it had you dragging your ass back time after time, and yet it was always with people you knew. 

It had been Rose who first pitched the idea to you a couple months back. A simple idea that you agreed to with a nonchalant chillness that you used to mask your genuine excitement for the new experience. A couple of visits with your small group of friends, including Rose, of course, and you had finally felt that it was time to put your expertise on the place up to the test; all by yourself.

Sitting on the stool at the bar, you lazily sloshed around whatever girly drink you had ordered this time. A nervous leg bounced to the beat of the music, eyes darting from person to person. Oh, this was not as easy as you thought it would have been. Any theory that crowds would be swarming with the chance to talk to Dave fucking Strider, clearly the biggest Chad in the room, was easily debunked.

This blows, you think to yourself as you pull out your wallet to pay your tab. 

Just then, as luck would be, you catch a man a few seats away from you brooding over his drink, and you tuck your wallet back into your pocket. 

There’s something about him. Maybe it’s just that short, dark-haired, broody looking men were your thing. Perhaps the tequila was stronger than you thought it was. Whatever the reason might have been, you decided that you were going to shoot your shot. 

You finished the drink you previously had, signaled the bartender for one more of whatever those were called, because  _ damn  _ they were good, and sauntered your way over to the mystery man that you could honestly eyeball for days.

“Hey-”

“No.”

“Huh?”

You blink, a tad startled. The stranger shares the same expression. 

“Fuck, sorry, thought you were someone else.”

It takes you a moment after that to recuperate, but you manage somehow. 

“Alright, alright, start over. Pretend you’re not expecting someone else to not bother you and that totally didn’t just happen, because right now, and not to be cliche or anything, I’m asking you, handsome stranger, if I could buy you another drink?” You rest an elbow against the counter, offering your tactical smile-slash-smirk combo, whilst praying to any god above that you weren’t about to get a coma inducing rejection.

“That was fucking stupid,” he says, and your smile falters, “but yeah, sure.”

_ Nailed it. _

Drinks were ordered. Another for yourself, and one for the attractive new company you’ve successfully managed to make. The alcohol is doing its job rather well. As time goes on, you feel yourself loosening up slowly. Your mouth, especially.

How many drinks have you had by now? 

You’ve decided you like this guy, enough to let a little bit of your guard down around him. He’s crude, followed by having no censor and an expansive vocabulary that makes you wonder if the guy carries around a thesaurus everywhere he goes. Best of all, he’s fucking eye candy. You could sit there for hours acting like the stereotypical dumb blonde, just watching the guy while he spews out some rant about one low-budget movie you’ve never even heard about. 

“I’m Karkat, by the way,” he announces once he’s finished and holds his drink.

“Dave. But woah woah,  _ Karkat?  _ No offense, but how much did your parents hate you?”

Karkat, who you no longer have to refer to as the attractive brooding stranger in your mind, gives a deadpan look, one that doesn’t fail to make you wonder if you blew things right then and there. 

“No offense taken since my home life was pretty loving. I don’t see why  _ you’re  _ talking though. Dave? Sounds like the name of a guy who has some serious daddy issues and grows up to drink cheap liquor,” he laughs, lips pressed against the rim of his glass, and as you’re watching him you wonder how it’d feel to have those lips on your mouth.

“Ohh, feisty. Sorry to say but if you’re going to degrade me like that you’re gonna have to take me home first.”

His eyebrows raise on his forehead. 

“Wanna take this somewhere else then?”

Oh.

_ Oh. _

_ “Oh,”  _ you weren’t prepared for that. 

The time it takes you to continue your damn sentence feels like forever. The wheels in your head are certainly turning, and they’re being pulled by a fat caveman with no perception of how engineering works. That’s how it works, right? 

Your head is already spinning thanks to the alcohol, and so it feels pretty right when you shrug your shoulders with some semblance of fluidity. 

“Honestly, about time you asked.”

The Uber parked abruptly in front of what you assumed to be Karkat’s home. Eagerly, you stepped out of the car, grabbing him by the hands and pulling him out with you. You’re giggling like an excited kid, practically skipping backwards as you drag him to his own front door. There’s no need to indulge the fact that through the time spent from leaving the bar to the car ride home, the mood heated up drastically. 

Hands fumbled with the excessive amount of keys, until finally the right one was chosen. The shiny piece of metal was inserted into the lock and twisted until the satisfying click of an unlocked door. 

One thing happened after another, from keys being tossed aside to any other possessions being discarded as well. Suddenly, your back is pressed up against the wall, a knot forms in your stomach that you  _ think  _ is a good thing, and oh god those lips slammed against yours with a hungry force like no other. Your knees buckle, your intoxicated mind draws a blank. All you do is kiss Karkat back. 

Your hand is at his hair, and it is pulling and tugging desperately. His hips are against yours, grinding in a way that causes you to occasionally slip a breathy moan in-between rough kisses. 

Suddenly, he’s stepping backwards. A fistful of your shirt is in his hand, he drags you with, while your mouths are still locked tightly against one anothers. Each movement feels delayed, like your own head can’t keep up with what’s going on, when in reality, you  _ genuinely  _ can’t keep up with what is actually going on. It isn’t until the back of your knees hit something firm that you become aware of the situation. You’re on the bed, and Karkat is still kissing you, leaning over you while he stands and you sit, holding his face with your hands. 

The shock comes when he is no longer kissing you. He’s standing, and you’re face to face with a reality that you coincidentally never thought about until now.

You’re-kind-of-like-still-a-virgin-and-this-is-a-total-stranger-that-you-think-you’re-about-to-lose-your-virginity-to. 

He looks down at you, a visible amount of concern crossing his face.

“You up to this? You don’t really look too good.”

“No, no. I’m totally fine. Buckle up big boy because I am about to give you the best time of your damn life.” Holy fuck you can hear yourself jesus fucking christ.

“Dave, are you sure-?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Why you don’t just tell him the truth right now, you don’t really know- though in all honesty it probably is the alcohol. 

You’re tugging at his pants, head spinning like a ride at an amusement park, putting up the front that you totally know what you’re doing. His jeans are past his knees, and you brace yourself as if you were head to head with an incoming truck that you knew was going to hit you at full speed.

You pull down his underwear and oh my god that is a dick. That is a whole fucking penis right there and it is absolutely worse than you getting hit by a truck because you are quite literally “head to head” with an unholy fully hardened cock-- and oh my god you feel like you’re about to throw up-- and oh holy fuck you just threw up on this guy’s dick. 

Your name is Dave Strider, and as everyone already knows, you’re head first in your hookups toilet after spilling your guts on his dick. His hand is still on your back, and the shame that resides over you is weighing you down like a barbell you cannot lift. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

Karkat sighs, “it’s okay. You had way too much to drink.”

You sniffle, trying to breathe back in the snot that is getting on your last nerves. 

“Yeah but, I didn’t tell you.”

“Didn’t tell me what?” He asks.

“I, fuck, I’m kind of also like still a virgin and so I got scared because I didn’t know what to do and then I puked all over your dick.”

There’s a pause. You’re waiting for everything bad to happen, waiting and waiting because you just know he’s about to be pissed.

But, instead, he starts to laugh.

It’s a soft, gentle laugh, one that fits well with the rasp of his voice, but it’s a laugh that confuses you all the same. 

You lift an eyebrow, your misery deepening from his laughter.

“What’s so funny?”

Karkat is still laughing. You have no strength to get onto him about it, so you’re sitting, a silent mess, as his laughter finally dies down.

“Goodness, Dave, you could’ve told me. We didn’t have to do anything. I probably should’ve known but like, that’s okay.” He leans down, looking you in the eyes. “Don’t be sorry about it, okay?”

You nod your head, closing your eyes as you feel another wave of nausea hit. You try to swallow it down.

“Would it be too late to ask for your number?” You ask him, and you sound absolutely pathetic when you hear your voice yourself.

He smiles, and you muster up one too in return.

“As much as I should be repulsed by the fact that you kinda just threw up on me… No, it isn’t too late for that.”

An hour passes and all potential vomiting has passed. You’re exhausted, and feel awful, but at least Karkat was nice enough to lend you a spare toothbrush and some strong cologne to mask the smell of vomit for the time being. 

He’s sitting on his couch, eyes fixated on whatever awful movie he’s put on, and you wobble over and plunge down on the seat next to him. No words pass between the two of you. The miserable sick feeling has only subsided for the time being, and you’re painfully aware that tomorrow you will absolutely have a terrible hangover. 

Despite everything that had happened in the past hour, however, you don’t feel too terribly awful. It’s an odd feeling. Even with the threat of a headache with a side of grogginess that looms over you, you can shake it aside for now, because ironically, you’re pretty happy with how this turned out. It was embarrassing, terrifying, and downright humiliating, but you get the feeling that Karkat isn’t going to disappear from your life like the shitty one night stand this started to be. Maybe that was just the alcohol talking, though. 


End file.
